


It Takes Two to Make a Thing Go Right

by theweightofmywords



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic Fluff, HP: Epilogue Compliant, M/M, Tattoos, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 11:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7531351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweightofmywords/pseuds/theweightofmywords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry had promised to help Draco more with making decisions, but the more complicated the wedding planning process became, the more he wanted to avoid the topic altogether. His bike rides became increasingly longer the more Draco questioned him about wedding minutiae, like guest lists or floral arrangements.</p>
<p>It wasn’t that he was afraid to marry Draco; he just wanted things to be different from his first wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Takes Two to Make a Thing Go Right

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for and posted by [ SerpentineLion's H/D 2016 Glompfest ](http://serpentinelion.livejournal.com/) on Livejournal. I meant to post this a long time ago, but life got away from me. 
> 
> Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling, blah blah blah.

Anxiety welled in Harry’s chest when he saw the long parchment sprawled over his dining room table.

“What’s this?” He asked faintly, though he knew the answer. 

“The guest list,” Draco replied innocently. “Mother sent over the names of everyone we need to invite earlier this morning.” 

Harry scanned the names written in Narcissa’s elegant cursive. He recognized a few, but the majority of the names were foreign to him. 

“Who are Gordon and Letitia Thackray?” 

Draco shrugged casually. “I don’t know. I think Letitia used to be in Mother’s book club.” 

“Your mum was in a book club?” Harry asked. 

“Yes, Potter. Don’t look so surprised. We’re allowed to enjoy pedestrian things too.” 

“I never said it was pedestrian, I mean, Mrs. Weasley is in one too-”

“My point, exactly,” Draco retorted, staring at his nails. 

“I may be marrying into your family, but you’re also marrying into mine, so apologise right now for that asshole comment!” Harry demanded, pushing Draco lightly. His smile betrayed his stern words. 

Draco pulled Harry into his chest and nuzzled his forehead with his pointy nose. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry.” 

“For?” 

“Saying rude things about Mrs. Weasley.” 

Harry glanced up and kissed Draco softly on the lips. “You are prepared for a lifetime of Weasley, right?” 

Draco smirked. “If it means I get a lifetime with you, I suppose I can adapt.” 

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. “Let’s just elope. Get this done with.” 

Draco glanced at the parchment. “I’m not eloping. Part of the fun of getting married is the big celebration!” 

“Big celebrations with loads of people I don’t know aren’t really my idea of fun.” 

“They’d be there to celebrate us. They’re happy for us!” 

“I bet most of these people don’t even know us!” Harry exclaimed. “I mean, can you even picture what Eleanor Underbridge, whoever the hell that is, looks like?” 

“Eleanor Underbridge is one of my father’s financial advisors,” Draco said, crossing his arms. 

“Really?” Harry asked. 

His shoulders slumping slightly, Draco shrugged. “I think so.” 

“You don’t even know!” Harry burst. “The idea of being the centre of attention in front of all these strangers makes me want to vom-”

“Now, you’re just being dramatic!” Draco threw his hands up. 

“You’re calling _me_ dramatic? That’s rich, coming from you,” Harry rolled his eyes as he let out a bark of a laugh. 

“Yes, I am calling you dramatic. Unlike you, I’m actually doing something to plan our wedding, which, by the way, is in six months!” 

Draco huffed and sat down at the table. He began flipping through sheets of parchment on the table. 

“I’ve been helping! When you actually let me!” Harry shot back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

“ _‘When I let you?’_ I asked you for a guest list two weeks ago, and you haven’t even started. I asked you for ideas on decorations and music selections, and you just keep saying that you’re thinking about it,” Draco argued. 

“I am working on it! I told you some of my ideas the other night.” 

“Oh, the one where we elope at the Ministry and rent out the Leaky Cauldron?” Draco said dismissively. 

Harry pulled at his hair in frustration. “What’s the point of me even trying? You’ve shot down every idea I’ve had. You seem to have an idea of what your party- I mean, our wedding- should be, so I’ll just leave you to it.” 

He began to walk towards the front door, grabbing his leather jacket along the way. He turned back to see Draco still seated at the table, his hands still as they held the parchment. His eyes unblinkingly stared at the paper, his mouth set into a thin line. 

“There are leftovers in the fridge,” Harry muttered, unable to keep himself from caring, even when angry. 

He threw his jacket on and left, the door slamming behind him. 

* * *

  
The motorbike roared as Harry cruised down an empty road. His long messy hair stuck out from under his helmet and fluttered in the wind. His chest heaved as he thought about his fight with Draco.

Harry had asked Draco to marry him a few months prior, right when they walked out of the muggle entrance to Saint Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Harry had been biting his tongue all day at work as he thought about his plan to take Draco out to dinner at their favourite French restaurant. Before their shift was over, Harry had seen Draco helping Alice Longbottom brush her hair with a smile so gentle and kind that he nearly asked the question right then and there. 

“What?” Draco had asked, a puzzled expression on his face as they waited at the lifts. 

“It’s not every day you see the top Mind Healer of Saint Mungo’s helping a patient with their hair.” 

“The brush was stuck, Potter. What kind of healer would I be if I just left it? You’d do the same.” 

“Nurses do that kind of stuff all the time,” Harry murmured, fumbling in his pocket for the ring. 

“What’s the matter? You look dazed.” Draco had stopped walking and held onto Harry’s shoulders as he examined Harry’s face. 

Harry had sunk to his knee on the pavement outside of the condemned department store and held out the ring. Though his hands shook, his voice had been sure and steady. 

Three months later, they had barely made any progress with planning their wedding. Harry turned down another road, dust flying up behind him. The sky was dark grey and purple, the sun nearly complete in its setting. He felt guilt twist inside him as he thought about how excited Draco had been to plan their wedding. 

“You’re acting like you’ve never been married before,” Harry had retorted about a month after they were engaged. 

Draco looked up sharply from the catalog of formal robes. “This might not be new for you, but this is the first time I’ll be saying the wedding vows to someone I truly love.” 

Harry had promised to help Draco more with making decisions, but the more complicated the wedding planning process became, the more he wanted to avoid the topic altogether. His bike rides became increasingly longer the more Draco questioned him about wedding minutiae, like guest lists or floral arrangements. 

It wasn’t that he was afraid to marry Draco; he just wanted things to be different from his first wedding. 

His marriage to Ginny had been a big celebration. By nature of the sheer number of Weasleys, there were almost two hundred people in attendance. It had been presided by the same tufty-haired wizard who performed Bill and Fleur’s wedding, and Harry had had little say regarding the vows or the ceremony itself. The reception was filled with dancing and saying hello to every guest and taking countless photos. The day had passed in a blur of red hair, joyous faces, champagne, and fireworks. 

Riding down a long stretch of road, Harry imagined the formal ceremony at the Manor that Draco had proposed: A big white tent with a crowd of three hundred wizards and witches, most of whom he had never met, and many of whom had likely wanted him dead at one point. He tried to imagine his friends amongst the crowd: the Weasleys rubbing shoulders with the pureblood families who looked down on them, Hermione and Dennis Creevey making smalltalk with wizards who still thought poorly of muggles. Being with Draco was easy, most of the time. The prospect of their worlds colliding during their wedding alarmed Harry and made him want to elope. In a secret ceremony, Harry thought, the differences between their worlds could be overlooked. 

But in his heart, he knew that the man he was marrying was different from him in ways that could not be ignored. Draco had grown up privileged, the world presented to him on a silver spoon. From an early age, Lucius and Narcissa had introduced Draco to people they thought could give him the very best in life. They had taught Draco to be well-heeled. For him, people were connections, a way to achieve a good life. After the war, the Malfoys had fallen from grace. Over the course of the next two decades, they re-gained a comfortable social standing because of their ability to connect with the right sort of people. No longer did they associate with people who outwardly professed pureblood supremacy. Twenty years after the war, the Malfoys were now the very picture of philanthropic wealth: Resilient old money, reformed and aloof from politics and scandal. They saw the wedding as a way to honor those ties. 

Harry knew that Draco, who had developed his own path independent of his family’s wealth, regarded these social connections as less of a priority than did Lucius and Narcissa. But Draco was still Draco, and he valued the culture in which he was raised. Draco saw his actions, including shows of grandeur, as ways to send a message. When he was nearing the end of his Healer training, he had chosen to specialize in Mind Healing and Potions knowing that he would come into contact with people directly affected by Death Eaters’ actions, like the Longbottoms. He had told Harry, one sleepless night, that he did so because although he could never fix the past, he wanted to help their future. Nothing with Draco was an afterthought. Even with good intentions, Draco was every bit the cunning Slytherin he always had been. 

Harry realised Draco saw the wedding as a way to announce that he loved Harry Potter and was proud to be bonded to him. He wanted their marriage celebration to be an outward manifestation of his love for Harry. 

As Harry idled at a stop light, he glanced at his watch. He had been on his bike ride for almost two hours. Once again, he imagined their wedding ceremony. A large crowd surrounded them, but this time, Harry saw Draco’s shining grey eyes as their hands clasped together. He imagined their friends amongst the crowd. Ever since they got together, their group of friends merged into one motley crew. Pansy was friends with Ron and Hermione, and somehow, Luna had become best friends with Goyle. Harry knew that they had the support of their friends, and as he imagined their smiling faces in the crowds, joy and excitement grew in his chest. Wishing he could Apparate with his bike, he sped home. 

From the driveway, he saw that the lights in the front window were dimmed. Unlocking the protective wards with his wand, he entered the house quietly. The parchments were gone from the dining table. Harry heard soft snoring from the living room. 

Draco was asleep on the couch, the remote control half-sliding from his hands. Midsomer Murders was playing quietly on the television. Harry smiled softly. The murder mystery show was Draco’s guilty pleasure, and Harry often caught him watching it for hours on end. Draco’s body was covered by a scarlet and gold fleece blanket, the very same one that he had derided as being “so full of Gryffindor pride, it’s indecent.” Harry had stopped noticing the little ways that Draco had adapted to his life. When Scorpius visited, he allowed him to eat muggle candy and watch muggle television shows. He let Lily Luna teach him how to ride a bike. He knew how to cook whole meals from scratch in Harry’s mostly-muggle kitchen, and he had even grown proficient in texting on the cellphone that Harry had bought him for emergencies. Draco belonged in this world, with its muggle ovens and television dramas, and Harry realised that he wanted to belong in Draco’s world too. 

As warmth swelled in his chest, he settled in next to Draco underneath the fleece blanket. 

“Hey,” Draco mumbled, his eyes blinking open. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said quietly. He caressed the side of Draco’s face. 

“I’m sorry, too,” Draco replied, his eyes downcast. 

“Whatever you want to do, I’m all in. As long as it’s you I’m saying my vows with.” 

Draco shook his head. “We can do something smaller. It’s not just my party- it’s our wedding.” 

“But I know it’s important to you to have people there. The ceremony, and all the pomp and circumstance, means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” 

Draco looked at Harry guiltily. “Yes. I’m afraid it does.” 

“Well, then let’s go for it!” Harry conceded. 

A small smile broke out on Draco’s face. “Really?” 

Harry kissed his forehead. “Yes, really. We’re getting married, and marriage is about coming together to form one unit. It wouldn’t be right to ignore what you value.” 

“We’ll have to find a way to incorporate your ideas then,” Draco said. He sat up and stroked his chin in thought. 

“What, like riding off on my motorbike with a big sign that says ‘Just Married’?” 

Draco’s eyes widened, and he clapped his hands. “Yes! That’d be perfect!” 

Harry sat up and, puzzled, ran a hand through his hair. 

“Are you serious?” 

“That would be a shock to my old pureblood relatives, but it’s very you.” 

Harry laughed as he pictured the two of them in full-length formal wizard’s robes, their long trains trailing behind them as they rode off into the sunset. 

“What else? Shall the Weird Sisters play the ceremony music? How about we end the night at some muggle tattoo parlour and get matching ink?” Harry joked, encircling Draco into his arms. 

Draco stilled and, pulling back, looked at him. “Yes.” 

“Uh, Malfoy, I was kidding-”

“You have all these tattoos, and I have just the… one, and it’d be very symbolic,” Draco explained. 

“You’re serious,” Harry stated, his brows raised skeptically. 

“You act like I’m incapable of shocking you,” Draco mocked indignation, even as his hands moved to cup Harry’s arse. “I can be very shocking, you know.” 

“Maybe you can convince me of how shocking you can be,” Harry breathed, as he smiled against Draco’s mouth. 

A muggle lifestyle may have grown on Draco, but he was every bit the wizard when he murmured a quiet spell to banish their clothes. The sounds of their gasps and heavy breathing overpowered the quiet murmur from the television, as all thoughts of wedding planning were pushed aside. 

Harry laid atop the scarlet and gold blanket on their living room floor as Draco unzipped his jeans. He mouthed against Harry’s covered erection. 

“Please,” Harry whispered. Draco remained silent, but with his eyes fixed on Harry, he smirked. Wordlessly, he pulled down Harry’s boxers and took his erect cock into his mouth. He grasped Draco’s hair as he took him deep into his mouth, his pink lips wrapped tightly around him. Moments later, he knew he was close to the edge. Pushing at Draco’s shoulder, he breathed, “Not yet.” 

Draco smirked. “Already, Potter?” 

Harry lifted his head to look Draco in the eye. “It’ll be Potter-Malfoy, soon,” he smiled. 

Draco’s eyes darkened, and he reached for his wand. As he murmured a spell, Harry felt his body become ready for Draco. His heart pounded in his chest, and he reached his arms out. Draco placed his hands on the sides of Harry’s head, kissing him hungrily. 

“I love you,” Harry breathed against his mouth. He gasped and held on tightly as Draco entered him. 

“I love you too,” Draco moaned, his eyes half-closed as he rested his forehead against Harry’s shoulder. 

His hips moved slowly, in and out of Harry. Rising to his knees, Draco began to thrust faster, pulling Harry’s legs over his shoulders. Harry reveled in the ease with which Draco moved with him, their hips rising to meet each other in a steady rhythm. This was the man he was going to marry. 

“Wait,” Draco said abruptly, pulling out. 

Before Harry could protest, Draco laid down beside him. Their lips crashing together in a kiss, he pulled Harry on top of him. 

“Please,” he begged. “I want you to ride me.” 

Harry nodded and reached behind him. He felt Draco enter him slowly until he was fully seated. His mouth lolled open in pleasure, he began to grind his hips against Draco. 

“So good,” Draco moaned quietly. 

Harry rolled his head back and rose up and down, feeling Draco’s fullness enter him. He opened his eyes and looked down to see Draco staring at him, his pupils so large his eyes appeared black. Draco tugged at Harry’s cock, his skin pink and flushed. 

“I want you every day,” Draco mumbled, his words slurred from arousal. 

“Every day,” Harry whimpered. “I’m yours.” 

“Come for me.” 

Harry felt the tension at his base as he went over the edge, losing control over his body, his come shooting all over Draco’s chest. He felt Draco’s warmth spread inside him, as Draco cried out his name. 

Later, as they laid on their living room floor, covered in the garish fleece blanket, Draco laughed to himself. 

“We should celebrate every wedding planning decision like that,” he smirked. 

Harry kissed Draco’s neck and smiled. “Gladly.” 

* * *

  
“Give me your hand, Potter.”

Harry glanced at Draco, who laid in the tattoo chair a few feet away, and saw his hand stretched out towards him. Worry etched itself into his furrowed brows. Harry grabbed his hand and kissed it. 

“Just breathe. It’ll be fine,” he said gently. 

“Easy for you to say. You’re covered in tattoos!” 

Dean Thomas cleared his throat. “Are we having second thoughts?” 

Draco opened his eyes and sat up. “No,” he replied, glancing at Harry. “I want to do this.” 

“If you’d like, we can move the placement of yours to a place with a little more meat,” Dean suggested. 

Harry laughed. “What, like his arse?” 

“I am _not_ getting a stag on my arse!” Draco cried. “My ribcage. It’ll be fine, just get it over with.” 

Dean rolled to his small desk and turned his speakers on. Music began to play in the small tattoo parlour. After washing his hands quickly, he slipped on a pair of latex gloves. Upon hearing the elastic snap on his wrist, Draco cringed. 

“You owe me a drink, Thomas,” Draco muttered. “I’m willingly subjecting myself to your torture device, and-” 

“Draco,” Dean interrupted. “It’ll be fine. Harry’s gotten this done plenty of times, and he’s still alive!” 

Draco groaned. “He’s Saint Potter. Of course he’s still alive.” 

Harry sat up and upon seeing the nervous sheen of sweat on Draco’s forehead, he smiled sympathetically. His tattoo of the Draco constellation on his upper left chest was considerably smaller than the one Draco was about to have done. “It’s not too late to change your mind.” 

Draco peered at Harry. “But this means a lot to you.” 

“Yeah, but if you really don’t want to do this-”

“I decided to do this with you, and I’m not going to change my mind,” Draco said resolutely. Seeing the solemnity in Draco’s eyes, Harry had a feeling that he was talking about something more than tattoos. 

“I love you,” Harry sighed, a lump rising in his throat. 

Draco smiled, the anxiety melting from his face. “Love you too, Potter,” he replied. He turned towards Dean and nodded succinctly. “Okay, Thomas. We’re ready.” 

Dean smiled, his brows raised. “You guys are gross. I didn’t think anyone could be grosser than me and Seamus, but you have us beat. Wouldn’t you say, Dennis?” 

“Most definitely. You two should get married or something,” Dennis said sarcastically, rolling his eyes in mock jest. 

“But, back to business. Dennis will work on Harry’s tattoo while I do yours. When I start to go over any parts that might hurt more, just focus on your breathing,” Dean explained. 

“And if at any time, either of you need a break, just let us know!” Dennis Creevey said cheerfully, holding his tattoo needle in his gloved hands. 

Draco rolled onto his side to give Dean access to his torso. Face to face with Harry, he raised his eyebrows. 

“This is it.” 

“This is it,” Harry repeated, a soft smile rising to his face. 

“Breathe in,” Dean instructed quietly, a look of concentration falling on his face. Draco winced as Dean began his tattoo. 

“Alright, Harry?” Dennis asked. Harry nodded, and upon feeling the burn of the tattoo needle, Harry clenched his jaw slightly. 

“How you doing, Draco?” Harry asked. 

“Fine, all things considered,” Draco replied, his voice shaking slightly as he squeezed Harry’s hand tightly. 

“Are you ready to say your vows?” Harry asked, feeling the lump in his throat again. His face grew hot as emotions flooded him. 

Draco nodded his head gently. Taking a deep breath in, he locked eyes with Harry. 

“I’ve regretted many things about my life. But being someone worthy of your love is something I’m proud of. Waking up to your stupid hair and perfect face makes me the luckiest man alive. It would be an honor to be your partner, to be the one you love, all the days of my life.” 

Although his voice was quiet, he spoke clearly. Smiling softly, he nodded. “Your turn.” 

Harry felt his eyes well with tears. He inhaled deeply before shuddering, a wide smile spreading across his face. “I wasn’t the best husband, the first time around. You know all about that. But, you make me want to be a better person. You push me to grow and to think. Being with you is a privilege that I thank the stars for every day. And if you’ll have me, I want to be yours. Even death can’t part us.” 

“You guys know that we’re not ordained ministers, right?” Dean mumbled quietly, stopping briefly to wipe his eyes. 

Harry laughed, wiping the tears from his face. 

“Are you crying, Dean?” Draco asked, though his eyes shined. 

“Go ahead, guys. You may now kiss,” Dennis quipped. He sniffled as he sat up, the needle still buzzing in his hands. 

Harry and Draco sat up in the vinyl-covered tattoo parlour chairs. As Dean and Dennis clapped, their lips met in a gentle kiss. 

  


* * *

“Merci beaucoup,” Draco said, handing the bellhop galleons.

Standing on the balcony of their hotel suite, Harry motioned for his husband to join him. 

“Remind me why I never traveled before?” Harry asked as he looked out onto the blue water of the Mediterranean. 

“Because you’re a workaholic, married to the patients of the Janus Thickey unit?” Draco guessed. Standing behind Harry, he wrapped his arms around his waist. 

“I’m married to you now, remember?” Harry said, turning his head slightly to see Draco. As their lips met in a kiss, Harry turned around to face Draco. 

“How could I forget? Our wedding was one for the ages,” Draco smiled. 

In the end, they chose to hold their wedding in a field by Luna Lovegood’s house. Three hundred people were in attendance, and the marriage was performed by the same tufty-haired wizard at Harry’s first wedding. The Weird Sisters wore their most tame outfits while playing their take on popular wizard and muggle love songs. 

Harry and Draco held each other’s hands and stared at no one else as they recited the formal vows. And when it was all over, they rode off on the motorbike which had once belonged to Sirius Black, Draco’s uncle and Harry’s godfather. 

“This is symbolic,” Draco had shouted, as the bike zoomed through the air, Harry having charmed it to fly again before the ceremony. 

“It was the happiest day of my life,” Harry said solemnly, holding Draco’s face in his hands. 

“Shall we consummate?” Draco murmured, his lips turning up in a mischievous grin. 

Harry bit back a laugh. “Using big words to turn me on?” he giggled. “You, my dear husband, are a nerd.” 

Draco pulled Harry towards the bed before pushing him gently onto his back. Climbing over him slowly, he slipped his hand under Harry’s shirt. 

“I’m the nerd you’re going to ravish so completely, I won’t be able to walk right tomorrow,” he whispered in Harry’s ear, his hand grasping the edge of Harry’s shirt. 

“Is that a promise, Malfoy?” Harry sighed, his face turning flushed. 

“It’s Malfoy-Potter now,” Draco murmured, kissing Harry once more. 

The setting sun painted their bodies in swaths of warm light as they consummated their marriage over and over again throughout the evening. Sated, they laid against the cool white sheets of their hotel room and held each other. 

“I could do this every day,” Harry said, smiling lazily at Draco. 

“Good thing you’re stuck with me, then,” Draco replied. 

As their eyes drifted closed, they fell asleep with their hearts full of joy, hope, and conviction that they were finally where they were meant to be all along. 


End file.
